The Spaces In Between
by chane
Summary: Kasimira Wickerweed has always been at odds with James Potter, but after joining the Quidditch team she'll find out he's not as bad as Lily makes him out to be... and that Slytherins aren't all scum. James/OC, eventual James/Lily, Regulus/OC.
1. A Matter of Pride 1 of 2

This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction that I've ever done. I actually completed it a long while back - maybe a year or so, but I've just never got around to posting it and I never really thought that it was good enough to be posted. I definitely don't think it's as great as any of the other works I've seen on here, but, nonetheless, I wanted to share this to see what kind of response I'd get and improve as a writer. Thank you~! I do hope you enjoy~!

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**A Matter of Pride (Part 1 of 2)**

Hogwarts is quad-friendly. We don't have quadruplets, but many… things… come in fours… there were four founders, four houses, four poster beds, four main classes; Transfiguration, Potions, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. How many Maruders were there? Four. And how many feasts occur in one year? Four. Four, four, four, four, four… And it took I, Kasimira Wickerweed, four (school) years to ride a broom. I went through thirteen years of life without riding a broom.

If you care about your health, safety and face, it is not _wise_ to laugh at this fact. Short and baby faced for my age; one wouldn't think I was a threat. Wilkes had thought so, in third year, he had harassed me to the point where I… well he and his gang of Slytherins soon learned they were wrong. A wand isn't necessary to induce pain.

Besides, there is a logical reason for this: I never learned. 'Oh, but there's a class, isn't there?' Yes, there is. I didn't take it. I was _sick_, and it didn't _seem_ _important_ to me to learn afterwards, why take time to learn to ride a broom? I could always learn _later_. I soon got sick of, 'You have such good reflexes, you should play Quidditch!' and 'Why didn't you learn to fly, you could've saved the team!' And for the last three years of school I have never _touched_ a broom (flying or otherwise)…

Until this day! I mark this day, September 27th, the day on which I've learned and _mastered_ the Art of Flying. And on October 16th, I will try out for the Quidditch team with Marlene Birwen, though she's guaranteed to be a member, and, a team-hopeful Mary MacDonald. We will be the first female members, and I mean the latter and myself, to join besides Marlene.

The feeling of flying was quite amazing, actually, but I preferred, personally… when it was fast. I enjoyed lounging in the air, just floating, as well, and just flying about, having the wind brush against me with only a thin piece of enchanted wood keeping me off the ground. But, the speed added adrenaline and gave it more of a thrill…

Even better, perhaps, was the fact that I had a deft, strong touch. Years of playing instruments and other activities that mainly replied on hands had paid off. I could make sharp turns and flips almost as if they were second nature, and, most importantly for my soon-to-be-Seeker spot, I had excellent eyesight. At first, I had attempted to catch falling leaves, but the burst of wind I produced made it too difficult as they'd flutter out of reach, so, instead I began tossing rocks as high and far in to the air I could muster and catch them falling down. My hand hurt a bit from the contact.

The wind whipped around me, making my eyes burn with the wind attacking them and making my hair lash at my face. I didn't mind, the only thing I saw was the rock approximately an inch or less in diameter dropping to the ground… I leaned closer to my broom – according to Marlene it was great that I was actually small and light, for my age, the best seekers weren't body builders, after all… The speed was exhilarating, the air cleaned my mind with its brisk, cold breath and made me see even better it seemed. I was almost within catching distance when…

"Kaz!" the voices, that of two girls, were so full of panic and fear that my immediate reaction was to stop and turn to the two shouting. Pulling my broom up and to the left sharply, I turned a perfect 180 to see that it was Mary and Marlene. I had forgotten that Mary had tagged along, and then Marlene had caught up. After Marlene arrived, she practiced to help Mary with Keeping; I went to do my own thing… They looked so alarmed I didn't understand it.

"What?" I demanded, my voice rather cold, even to me. I'd nearly been in reach of catching that damned rock and they spoiled it…

"What? You were about to crash in to that tree!" Mary accused, pointing at the tree behind me.

I rolled my eyes, "I wasn't, don't worry about me, if you get distracted like that during a match, how would you block the other team from scoring?" I chastised. Of _course_ I knew about the tree, it wasn't a problem. If I turned upwards sharply enough, I could catch the rock and fly through the branches and leaves… Not really a big deal unless I got a face-first taste of bark…

Marlene let out a scoffing sort of laughter and shook her head, "Whatever… we're going to miss breakfast, you know, if we stay out here too long." Of course! Breakfast!

Brushing back my hair, my hair tie had fallen out whilst I was practicing, I landed and began to clean up, listening only partially to their talk. Instead I immersed myself in thoughts about breakfast, I always woke 'round the same time as the birds did, and so I ate earlier than anyone else. The House Elves personally made me breakfast, but since skipped, in case flying wasn't best with a filled stomach, I would, for the first time since first year, eat breakfast in the Great Hall… so many things were happening: learning to fly, eating breakfast in the Great Hall… I'd have to mark my calendar…

As I left the equipment shack with the two at my side, I collided with something, someone, really, as heat didn't emanate from walls and walls didn't grow out of the ground… and although I didn't fall over from the collision, it was _irritating_. "Shouldn't you watch where you're going?" we chorused in unison, yes, it was human. As I was about to snap at the person, I realized whom I was talking to.

James Potter. Marauder-in-command and guaranteed Chaser of the Quidditch team… and, according to Lily, an arrogant toerag undeserving of all the praise and affection he gets. I had to agree, I never thought that one of the Marauders was that good-looking, admittedly, though, Potter was a talented Chaser. But he was exceedingly arrogant at times, as well… an arrogant toerag, indeed.

I guess I spent more time than I thought practicing… if _Potter_ was finished; he usually took his sweet time in leaving, under the quote of 'So that everyone can feast their eyes upon me!', it was things like that that made me want to hit him… but, then again, if he was at the Quidditch Pitch, he _might've_ left early… There _might_ still be time for breakfast…

He smirked down at me, there was barely two inches separating our heights, he was just hitting his growth spurt, "Wickerweed! What were _you_ doing at the Quidditch pitch? Didn't know you could even _fly_." His voice interrupted my thoughts, not because it was loud, but because…

The _git_ was _mocking_ me. I was prideful, confident, not arrogant, and… _fierce_ when someone pissed me off. "I didn't." There was only one thing that was preventing me from clobbering him – irritating me was one thing, insulting my pride was another, after all, he was using _that_ voice… that condescending, holier than thou, superior voice that told me he was fully confident he could beat me in anything that had to do with riding a broom…

He cocked a brow and looked back at his Quidditch buddies, a practice team just as obsessed over the sport as him, he turned back and smiled, "Oh? So you can now?" he suggested. He enjoyed it, I was sure, that feeling of being King of the Castle… of being praised and admired and sought after by those girls and respected, needlessly, by the empty-headed boys… all striving after that same _perfection_, good looks, brains, wit…

"Thus my use of the past tense, Potter." I replied coldly, I attempted to sidestep him, only to be brought to a halt the moment he sidestepped in front of me. He leaned in so that the tips of our noses practically _touched,_ and, repulsed, I took a step back, but I could still see clearly in to his hazel eyes, which were tinged with both green and gold.

"Meadowes told me something interesting at breakfast…" he hinted and I glared in response, this only made him smile widely, "She said that you were trying out for the team. I didn't believe it at first, since everyone knew you didn't know how to fly but now that you claim to know how… mind if you give us a show?" He was luring me in to giving them a show of what they thought was my poor skills.

"Hey, come on, let's not deal with this…" Mary insisted, tugging on my arm, Marlene seemed to agree as she snapped at Potter, "Leave her alone, James, I taught her personally, and if I say so myself, she's one hell of a beginner." They were trying to drive me away from what they thought was going to be my knee in between Potter's legs. Trying to get me away from any sort of conflict, I would've loved to; I didn't want to deal with this, with _Potter_.

But I had no choice. This was a matter of _pride_, which Potter was _insulting_, he even brushed the two aside and insisted to me, "Let's just call it pre-qualification, I just want to see if you can even make it two feet in the air."

Oh, I'd like to launch him two _hundred_ feet in the air… like off Hogwarts ceiling… but, embarrassment was better, he needed a lesson in humility, he needed to be humiliated… I snatched a broom from one of his buddies, school brooms were slow, and he grabbed his broom willingly as I asked, "What do you want to see?" I demanded, like I knew an array of stunts… I didn't. Marlene had tried, but explanation wasn't her forte, nor was demonstration, she stumbled over bits of the routine.

Potter grinned. He grinned to his mates, who consisted only of a seventh year and two unknown sixth years, pathetic, really, how they respected him because he could garner a few laughs and sighs… And after a staring contest with Potter, I snapped around and began the march back to the Quidditch pitch with him and his lot trailing behind. He was about to see just how _wrong_ he was for doubting me…

I wouldn't have time for breakfast after all…

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I honestly don't know what to do next - I could continue it, I do have a plot and, like I've said, it's practically all written out - just looking for people willing to read it. Well, reviews would be appreciated~! Thank you for reading~!


	2. A Matter of Pride 2 of 2

Update~! Chapter two~! Yay~! Okay, no, not really… I can honestly say that I kind of… I don't know how to put it… umm… despise this chapter? Yeah, that's it~! Haha, I'm sorry, I just don't like it at all… I'm very eager to just jump into the romance portion; it's a lot better than this rubbish I'm giving you now, in my opinion. Oh wells~! I still hope you can find some enjoyment in this~!

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A Matter of Pride (Part 2 of 2)

James Potter emanates this air of self-confidence wherever he goes… it's not that he struts or anything, well, not to me, but he holds his head up high, his shoulders squared, his back straight and his chest thrust out. He's amiable enough, I suppose, he's friendly and stuff… so why does he irritate me? It's exactly that. The bloody git never seems to do anything wrong in anyone's eyes but Lily's.

Don't say it… I know what you're going to say – that I shouldn't take Lily's word on everything, right? Or something like that… well, I didn't. At first, I was absolutely dead-set on proving the girl wrong… but a certain incident in third year had proved me very wrong…

I should start off by saying that I'm not, in fact, in James Potter's year – though with the gits in their year, I could very well pull it off – I'm a year below. But what makes me so amazingly close with them is this… my elder brother is.

My elder brother… Kirill Wickerweed. Kirill is a year above me, placing him in O.W.L. year with the rest of the Marauder gang. However… he's in Ravenclaw.

And he's a shining example of everything a Ravenclaw should have, too. He's bloody gorgeous… dark waves of midnight hair and brilliant violet eyes, a strong bone structure, but not too strong… girls fawn over him as much as they fawn over the Marauders. And he's bloody brilliant, too, he's witty and creative and quick on the tongue… but that's his problem. He's a little too quick to snap back…

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May of 1975…

Transfiguration had just ended and I, being myself, sat alone on the grass, twiddling my fingers, waiting, just waiting… not quite sure for what. I got my answer in the form of my elder brother.

I was never great with friends and especially those in my own year… too many of them irritated me to no ends, this is how I break it down: half of them I wish to curse, a fourth I want to push in the Great Lake, an eighth I want to hit with my satchel, a sixteenth I simply bid good morning to and another sixteenth I don't particularly care for or know of. Therefore, the only person I really cared to talk to was my elder brother.

I stood up immediately, brushing aside a Slytherin I knew from my Potions class but never really took note of, and darted over to him, waving a bit, "Kirill!" I called, but before I could reach him, a Hufflepuff collides with him halfway down the hall.

Everything seems to stop for a moment. Papers fall everywhere, books are bent at the spine by colliding with the ground, ink splatters across papers and robes, it's a big mess and my brother, short tempered as he is…

"You bloody git! Are you stupid?! Can't you see where you're going and walk at the same time?!" he shouts at the Hufflepuff. And I can't help it – I sigh. It was a perfectly Kirill-like thing to do… shout and insult him… of course.

It wasn't too brilliant because who else was there but the noble and gallant James bloody Potter? Hero to all those in need… the magnificent Potter to the rescue! Putting his nose in somewhere it most certainly doesn't belong…

And then Potter does perhaps one of the worst possible things he can… he _curses_ my brother, the git. And it doesn't even stop there… he raises his wand again, the spell playing on his lips…

But it never gets out.

I _shove_ the git before he can utter a single syllable. Yes… I shove James Potter and he went toppling to the ground. I know… use my wand, right? That'd be the obvious thing to do, wouldn't it? I must admit… I didn't think. I ran over and pushed James Potter…

"You're the git!" I snarled at him, "You're always going around thinking you can do these sorts of things, well, Potter, you can't! You can't just… curse people when you feel the urge or put your nose into business where it doesn't belong! Sod off!"

Potter looks shocked, sprawled out there on the floor before he smirks and mutters, "Oh? Is that it, Wickerweed? You need your little sister to help you in a fight?"

My brother's face turns red and I don't think I can handle a battle of testosterone… gathering up everything I can identify as my brothers in a hurry, I grab his hand and march…

Far away from it all… far away from Potter and the Hufflepuff in shock on the floor, far away from the crowd of people staring, muttering, "She just pushed James Potter!" and "Who was _that_?"…

"That git…" I mutter, staring at the ground, face red in embarrassment… I hadn't… I didn't… plan on doing that. That had… I'm not sure what it was. Basic animal instinct, I suppose?

Kirill stopped walking and mid-step, I paused as well, turning 'round I saw him, face stern, set… a seething anger in his eyes… inwardly, I cringed, my heart becoming tight, waiting…

_SLAP!_

Oww… my face burned from the contact of his hand against my cheek, probably red, possibly throbbing, my brother wasn't a weakling, after all…

"Why did you do that?" he commanded. There's a fire burning in his eyes and I… don't get it.

"Do what?" I demand, "Help you? Because you're my sodding brother, why else? You think I'm going to stand by and let Potter…"

"That's not what I mean…" he mutters and he sighs heavily before beginning to explain, "Do you know what 'pride' is?"

"That's a stupid question," I retort, "Of course I do… what of it?"

"Well, then, if you know what it is… why'd you help me? It's insulting to a man's pride to have a girl, their little sister help them in a fight. It's not a matter of I don't appreciate it… it's a matter of pride." He answered, staring me down with those eyes…

It was that day that I decided…

Pride was the source of all problems…

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It was a good enough lesson to learn, that, apparently, I failed miserably, in a way at learning, considering what I was doing now…

"This is so stupid… come on, let's just go get breakfast," Mary pleaded, tugging on my arm uselessly, I rolled my eyes and shrugged her off.

"I know… but I can't let Potter get away with thinking I was too scared to back down from a challenge…" I murmur.

She rolls her eyes at me, "That's stupid, too. Come on, who _cares_ what Potter thinks?"

"The vast majority of the student body," I answer with a roll of the eyes… it was true, after all.

"The vast majority of the student body is also stupid, according to you, so let's go."

"Leave it alone, Mary," Marlene sighs, she smiles at me wryly, "Kaz is too stubborn to be persuaded otherwise, you know that," she chuckles and claps my shoulder with a hearty laugh, "Beat the bloody git and make him regret he ever learned to ride a broom, all right?"

Chuckling, I nod sharply, "Of course… he'll regret ever hearing the word, 'broom'." They both smile, Mary a little weakly before they leave the pitch to get breakfast, they were under no oath to watch me… and neither were, apparently, Potter's Quidditch buddies, who seemed to evaporate… where the bloody hell had they gone?

"I sent them off," Potter calls, and he's smirking from where he stands more than a few meters away, "I don't see any reason as to why they should stick around."

"I thought you loved a crowd, Potter," I snap back, glaring at him.

His smirk wavers a little before finally turning into a sort of frown, "I don't get it, Wickerweed… you seem to _hate_ me. And, quite frankly, I don't get it."

What… the bloody hell…? "I don't know what you're talking about, Potter…"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I mean," he sighs, "I haven't done anything… I haven't said anything… we barely know each other, Wickerweed, and still, you seem to bloody well hate me."

"You mean to tell me… you seriously don't remember last year? Bloody hell James… it was little over a few months ago!"

It's absolutely frustrating to see him shrug his shoulders a little, "Well, yeah, I remember your brother and I were almost in a fight, but… still…"

"James… I was the one that pushed you and yelled at you in the hall that day."

He blinks and seems to rack his brain for the memory before snapping his fingers, "It was you! But… that still doesn't make any sense… why would you hate me because of that…?" he looks questioning, wondering, trying to figure out something that was so very obvious… well, maybe not…

"I hate you… because you're the reason I can't look my brother in the eye anymore…"

And everything goes silent… there's nothing but the sound of breathing, although I hear the thud as a broom falls to the ground in shock…

"Bloody hell, Wickerweed… what happened?"

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I don't like this chapter at all… in fact, I'm really just trying to get all this past and over with so that I can get into the romance… one more chapter. Anyways~! The last update that I won't make you wait a week for will come this upcoming Monday, but then I'm putting this story on weekly updates, every Monday. Review please~!


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